midnight skies
by decrescence
Summary: The sound of point-toed boots striding down the cobblestone path ripped through the quiet, quick and mercilessly, like the sting of a rapier. When the wind blew past the stranger, it seemed to recognize him somehow, as if it had seen him once, if not twice, before. SasuSaku. AU.


**a/n: inspired by the poem "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes**

* * *

The moon hung from the sky, sustained in the air by an invisible thread that was just as strong as it was fragile. It cast its faint, opalescent light over the winding ribbon of a road that led to the doorstep of an inn, centuries old.

The night was like a painting, picture perfect in every way, and the silence was almost too quiet, like the strangeness that remains after a longstanding noise suddenly dies out.

And then there were footsteps.

The sound of point-toed boots striding down the cobblestone path ripped through quiet, quick and mercilessly, like the sting of a rapier. When the wind blew past the stranger, it seemed to recognize him somehow, as if it had seen him once, if not twice, before. The stranger walked through the quaint village without faltering or hesitation, and it was obvious he knew where he was headed.

The man ventured into the town with a brisk pace, not quick enough to be considered rushed, but he gave off the impression that he was in a slight hurry. He kept his seemingly cold eyes locked straight ahead and left his covered arms at his side, except for the one time he lifted his hand to push his midnight black hair off of his forehead.

He stopped at a kissing gate that warned him not to pass, that he was not welcome. A smirk flooded into his features, and a sarcastic 'tch' escaped his lips. Then he glided his fingers across the top of the gate in a way that was almost teasing, and it parted and let him through.

The man's eyes darted about his surroundings as he made his way to the left side of the house. He stood it its shadow, his chin tilted towards the highest window.

A tune danced from his lips, navigating its way upwards, and then the casement opened, revealing the form of a beautiful young woman with a genuine smile sketched onto her porcelain face. Her long hair, with its distinct shade of cherry blossom pink, tumbled over her shoulders like a waterfall, and a deep red love knot was tied delicately around the lower portion.

The girl reached out of the window, extending her fingertips to the shadowy figure below, but even as he offered his hand to her, they could not touch. A flash of grief exploded onto her coral lips, but it was gone before long.

The man beneath her smirked once again as his fingers almost brushed against hers, but his expression was softer than it had been before.

He let his arm drop to his side once again, and then spoke in a hushed, low voice.

"I'm meeting with a group of outlawed criminals tonight. They've promised me gold for the information I said I'd give them."

The maiden's eyes glittered with worry.

"Sasuke, you promised me you wouldn't involve yourself with these people anymore... Oh, who knows what they—_the soldiers, don't forget!—_would do if they realized! You'd be executed on the spot! Haven't you heard how cruel they are?"

Her fingers gripped tightly onto the glass of the window in front of her until her knuckles whitened, but Sasuke paid no heed. He merely grinned as if the very thought excited him.

"I know what I'm doing, Sakura. There's no need for you to worry. Just—"

Sasuke suddenly turned around, his eyes full of suspicion, but all he found himself facing was an empty window of the neighboring house. His gaze bore into the darkness threateningly as he waited for someone to suffice, but the person he thought he had sensed did not show themselves.

"You should be more careful... "

Sasuke's gaze returned to the girl in the window as her voice drew him back. He nodded.

"I know."

He pulled his cloak's hood over his dark hair abruptly in order to ready himself for departure and then looked up towards Sakura.

"I'll be going then."

Sasuke stared at her expectantly, waiting to see if she'd speak, but she seemed at a loss for words. Her voice faltered when she spoke again.

"...How long has it been since we've last seen each other?"

Sasuke paused.

"Three years."

When he looked her square in the eye, he could feel the intensity of her emotions coursing through his own veins like adrenaline. He tried to shake off the feeling but found that it was too strong, even for him.

They stared at one another for what seemed like hours, and the sadness—as well as the hidden anger—eventually melted from Sakura's face. She smiled softly and dipped her head.

She leaned out the window, letting her incredibly long pink hair cascade down the side of the house, and Sasuke reached forward, gently taking hold of a single lock that he pressed to his lips.

"I'll come back much before that I did last time. By morning—I'll be back by morning."

The light of a lantern flickered as the hooded man's words drifted towards the open casement, and by the time it had died out, he was already gone.

.

.

.

Sakura waited by the wide windowpane throughout the entirety of the next day. She had risen when the first beams of sunlight had peeked into her bedroom and spent the whole morning and afternoon watching for Sasuke through the slightly clouded glass.

When the sun finally started to secede from its thrown in the heavens, Sakura began to worry. Her heartbeat quickened as the sky darkened in color, and the terrible weight of dread weighed down on her shoulders.

She threw a sweater over her long, pale dress and then flew down the stairs at a tempo that was almost inhumane, but she hadn't even reached the bottom of the staircase before she met her father, who quickly ushered her back to her room and reminded her that someone such as herself was not meant to be wandering around in the dark.

She stayed awake far past midnight because she couldn't close her eyes without seeing an image of Sasuke drifting further and further away.

.

.

.

Sakura woke to the sound of cruel, taunting voices and sharp pain coiled tightly around her wrists. She lifted her head slowly, still partially asleep, but as soon as she took in her surroundings, her eyes widened in surprise when she realized who stood before her.

Soldiers.

The very soldiers she had warned Sasuke about.

The tallest of the four men who were stationed in her room noticed that she had woken and sneered, his eyes glinting maliciously.

"Looks like the landlord's little girl is up now."

Sakura twisted her wrists in panic, but the ropes that bound her to the feet of her bed only seemed to tighten as they singed her skin. She shuddered involuntarily as the man bent down and kneeled in front of her, his wide shoulders perfectly squared.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

The temperature in the room dropped immensely as the soldier leaned towards her, his face plastered with an expression of sheer mockery and disdain.

"Where's your beloved criminal now?"

He chuckled when Sakura remained quiet and then pulled back, motioning for his comrades to follow him out of the room. The tallest soldier was the last to leave, and he spat at her feet before exiting.

Sakura's jaw clenched as she struggled to fight the scream that was surging up her throat.

_"Go to hell, you damn bastards!"_

.

.

.

Night fell, and Sakura was still tied and under the watchful eye of the soldiers. From the cold floor, she could see through the window; she could see the looping path that Sasuke was going to take. It was completely empty, but she sensed his presence. He was there—_she knew he was_—and he was waiting.

Sakura lowered her head, and the barrel of the gun that had been secured to her chest met her forehead.

There was only one thing she could do to warn him, to save him.

Sakura twisted her wrists again, until her eyes stung with tears. She pulled at the rope with all the strength she possessed and struggled to adjust her hands so they could reach the gun's trigger.

A shorter, stockier soldier noticed her movements and scowled.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Sakura ignored his question, and then looked to the window. The road was still empty.

"Please tell Sasuke I said goodbye."

She inhaled deeply, and then the gunshot exploded.

.

.

.

The moment Sasuke heard the gunshot fire, he knew it was his signal to escape, but his feet seemed to act on their own and he ran towards the direction of the detonation instead. As he raced through the trees, he felt a pang of anxiety, but he exactly couldn't put his finger on the reason why.

When Sasuke arrived at the old house, his heart collapsed in his chest as he saw the blood.

And what shocked him more was that it was _her_ blood.

It was Sakura's blood.

The sight of her deep red blood—_oh, it was the same color as the love knot she wore in her hair_—had hypnotized him, and Sasuke had hardly even noticed the yells and threats directed towards his place. He dropped down, his knees colliding with the road. He stared at her form framed by the window, her head bowed over her bloodstained chest.

He couldn't find the words to say, so he screamed and screamed and screamed. He screamed like a madman until his voice died away and was no more.

And then he felt himself being pushed to the ground by men he couldn't recognize, but it didn't matter because the pain was nothing compared to what he felt inside.

Even the bullets hurt less than his sadness.

.

.

.

_And they say that when he moon hangs from the sky, sustained in the air by an invisible thread that is just as strong as it is fragile,_

_When it casts its faint, opalescent light over the winding ribbon of a road that leads to the doorstep of an inn, centuries old,_

_When the night is like a painting, picture perfect in every way, and the silence is almost too quiet, like the strangeness that remains after a longstanding noise suddenly dies out,_

_There are footsteps._

_The sound of point-toed boots striding down the cobblestone path rips through quiet, quick and mercilessly, like the sting of a rapier. And when the wind blows past the stranger, it seems to recognize him somehow, as if it had seen him once, if not _**many, many,**_ times before._


End file.
